One of the things I loved that was hidden in that all old backpack was a collection of things Tim had given me after I had broken up with him one time. I didn't break up with him because he did something wrong, but because it was just so hard imagining what life was going to be like with him gone for 3 years of law school. He sure knew how to persuade a girl to give him another chance. I remember him calling me and asking me to meet him at his parents house. He had something to give me, he said. He had a plastic grocery bag full of things and these were a few of the items in the collection:
He sat me down, at the top of his parents driveway, and explained to me that if we were to break up he would not get to see Miguel and Karizma turn 6 and 8. Hence the candles...
He said he wouldn't get to help put together our wedding invitations someday...
Or have children with me....
I was so touched by all the time and effort he put into this 'please, don't break up with me' collection. I was overwhelmed with how romantic he could be. And God knew I just loved him so much, that I could never be without him, anyway. We had only been dating for 7 months at that point, but lets be real... when you know, you know.
I also came across a poem he had written to me. Probably my favorite out many. He sent it to me while he was in law school, but I came across the original rough draft in that old backpack. It touched my heart because I could see the scribbles over words he rethought and some law notes on the back. I see what must have been a coffee stain on the corner and I just felt so close to him. I was transported back in time and could imagine my darling Tim sitting at his desk, homesick, and writing this poem for me. To think that I thought I couldn't love him any more back then. My heart was so swollen with love. But, God was and is so much bigger than I can fathom. He put us together and now my cup runneth over with love for my Timmy. He is still that romantic, loving man that I fell in love with. However, now I have the honor of being his wife.
Like two streams that now flow together as one,
I can no longer tell where I end and you begin.
The thought of your smile leads my way,
guides me to happiness like the eastern star directed the magi to the Lord.
A mother feeding her newborn child,
an elderly couple walking on the beach holding hands,
a sailor reunited with his wife;
None can feel as close to one another as I feel to you.
I've experienced heaven.
I know what it is.
It is the sweet fragrance of your hair,
the tenderness of your kiss.
It is answering the phone and hearing your voice.
Heaven is looking out the window, west,
knowing that you love me as I love you.
My love for you runs so deep through my veins,
through my soul,
incessantly,
springing from the fullest, the purest well.
The more I write, the more I realize that words have not been created that truly capture how I love you.
That's because no man has ever loved a woman so intensely,
so passionately, before.
So my kiss must be my alphabet,
my lips my pen,
yours my paper.
And I wait here,
breathlessly,
dreaming of the day I'll write my next sonnet,
on your soul.
I just reminded Tim about this poem and he emailed me this:
"I can’t remember if it was a weekend or if I just had no classes that day (or, egad, decided to ditch classes that I was paying $40,000/year for). I was deeply missing you, and I wanted to take solace in some of the works of my favorite modern poet, Ezra Pound (who, despite being quite a despicable man, was a master wordsmith). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ezra_Pound
So I took a shuttle bus from the law school to Georgetown’s main campus, and spend the afternoon reading selected works of Pound, Yeats, and Frost. But none of the poems I read spoke to me that day. And as I took the long shuttle ride back to my dorm, I was still terribly missing you, and I decided that if I couldn’t get the heartache to go away, then I should at least make use of it and pour it into a poem for you.
That night, I was sitting on my small bed in my small room of my small apartment, looking west out my small window into the dark, yet star-filled, sky above the Mall and the Potomac. I had a deep, comforting sense that you were thinking about me at that very same moment; your thoughts focused eastward, my west. And I began to write.
It probably was the easiest poem I’ve written, since the emotions were already boiling up to my fingertips, and all I had to do was put pen to paper and everything else took care of itself."
I adore this man. This man that still writes me poems and emails that melt my heart. This man that provides for our ever growing family. This man that brings me roses constantly. This man that loves me in spite of me.
(Our honeymoon 5/2001)
Timmy, may the honeymoon never end, Baby.
You are the love of my life.
Then, now, and forever.
